I try to keep things light and easy here at From Inmates To Playdates, Inc. because I feel like most of y’all have enough of your own stress to deal with without coming here for a daily dose of crazy only to read about McFamily drama. My little corner of the blogosphere allows me to unleash my crazy and I’d much rather make y’all laugh than rehash the toil and trouble of my world. I would be lying though if I said the toil and trouble never gets to me.
Because it does.
In fact, I spent most of the weekend thinking about the toil and trouble in this life.
For starters, a young mother from our Sunday School lost her battle with cancer leaving behind a husband and a teenage son. Then, while standing in line at the funeral home, I find out that one of our pastors is in the Intensive Care Unit pretty much fighting for his life after taking a bad turn while having surgery to remove a kidney stone.
The thought of a husband and son being without their wife and mother after a fourteen year battle with cancer is heart-breaking. The void left in their lives will never be filled. Their lives will change in ways they probably can’t even fathom right now and I can’t begin to grasp what they are facing. I think about McDaddy and my boys and just can’t imagine their life continuing on without me in it.
Our sweet pastor, who visits us and prays for us when we are sick, goes to the hospital for what Doctors call routine surgery only to end up on a ventilator while his life is touch-and-go.
Life is so fragile. We should never become so busy that we don’t have the time to stop and really think about and appreciate life.
On Friday, McDaddy and I were headed in two different directions. I was headed to the funeral home with a friend and McDaddy was headed to a Cub Scout Campout with the boys. Just before walking out the door, Stevie came out of his room holding his head, stating “It feels like I have a bomb in there.”
If there is one thing you should know about me, its that I don’t deal well with my babies being in pain. My mind immediately goes to races about what could be wrong because that’s just what I do when faced with a problem. I began to pray about this headache. I really just wanted to crawl in bed with my boy and hold him until his head stopped hurting. Instead though, I suggested to McDaddy that he give him some Tylenol and we went off in separate directions. I couldn’t get my mind off of my sweet boy the entire evening. I felt antsy about getting to him and I felt that if I could just be there, his head would feel better. By the time I arrived at the campout, his headache was gone and he was feeling fine.
Fast forward to Saturday.
The cub scouts were lined up around the pond fishing. Several of the dads were assisting with poles and bait and hooks and lures. I was parked on a bench reading Angela Thomas’ book, Do You Know Who I Am? and Stevie looked at me half-squinting and said, “Mom, my head is hurting again, can I go lay down in the camper?”
We packed up his fishing stuff and headed over to our camper. He fell asleep almost immediately. I stared at his sweet face and his ridiculously long eyelashes. I took the time to pray about his head, our pastor, our friend’s husband and son, and the troop of cub scouts who were fishing just inches from a pond full of water. Then, I thanked God for my healthy family, our warm home, and our little church.
I wear a lot of hats. Mother. Wife. Sister. Aunt. Pioneer teacher. Blogger. PTA President. Friend. I am a stay-at-home mom who rarely stays at home. I am busy as a raccoon in a trash-pile most days. I don’t want to ever become so busy that I forget to thank the one who supplies the needs of my family and so much more.
I am blessed and I never want to forget that.